


Connotations of the Word 'Yes'

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, M/M, Psychological Trauma, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:51:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1187655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sam fell, he expected fire and brimstone, but the nothingness was worse. "But you know the funny thing about angels, Sammy? We can fill just about anything."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Connotations of the Word 'Yes'

The earth caved in, tumbling down into an empty, black abyss. Dean looked on in horror- well, what he could see through the blood in his swollen eyes, propped helplessly against the Impala.

That's where Sam jumped (though perhaps 'fell' would be more appropriate,) as he grappled desperately at his half-brother. The archangel, Michael, screamed, ripping out of his vessel and thusly twisting the scream into the ear-splitting shriek of his true voice, his form glowing. He couldn't detect the light of the Earth at this point, and soon enough all that emanated off of Michael was absorbed in the darkness as well. He lost sight of the angel completely- falling, falling- wind rushing past him at whipping speeds.

The air stung against his skin, the passed-out Adam tore out of his grasp, and Sam lost himself in fear of when- if at all- he would crash to the bottom. Lucifer, on the other hand, didn't fight. When the hunter first regained control, the archangel had beat against his skull, but after they fell…? He was almost sulking. Silent. He didn't even seize power now, as Sam practically relinquished it.

Actually, he began to wonder if Lucifer was even in him at all… Damn if that wasn't the most terrifying thought that ever crossed him. The nearly painful energy of having an archangel crammed inside him was waning… Dwindling… Gone. Where was Lucifer!? Come to think of it, what happened to the sting of every particle past him at terminal velocity? Where was the fire, the brimstone? When had he stopped screaming: when had he stopped breathing?

Sam was numb- and not the tingling, uncomfortable numbness he was accustomed to sitting in the Impala for hours- he couldn't feel _anything_. Hell, he couldn't be sure if he had hit bottom; it was too dark, too still. Was he even in control of Lucifer anymore, or locked in some black part of his mind? He was just so alone… So… Alone… Alone…

 _Welcome to the Cage, Sammy._ the voice whispered in his mind. _Surprise! It's worse than you expected, right? You know what this is?_ He seemed to wait for an answer he must have known Sam could not form- his thoughts weren't even coming at this point. _This is what it's like without hope. It's just empty. Nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. …But, you know something about angels? We can fill just about anything._

A snap of fingers resounded, and suddenly the black was gone, replaced by the visage of something… much closer to expected: a torture chamber. Though darkened, it served as a stark contrast to the void of moments ago. Re-acclimated with his senses, the hunter became aware that Lucifer had, indeed, taken the lead again, reducing the mortal to glimpses of his surroundings only when the fallen angel wanted him to see. Now was one of the times he was intended to see exactly what the archangel was doing. Meat hooks dangled from the ceiling, chains littered the bloody stone floor, and a number of racks, table, and trays lay awaiting use.

"I was always good with virtual reality. Taught Gabriel everything he knows. Knew… Whatever. If I let my Grace bleed through, it'll fill the hole. You're sitting inside my soul, Sammy. Welcome home."

"Homey, don'tcha think?" the Devil went on, his voice warped around Sam's vocal chords.

The hunter simply sneered a little within his brain.

Lucifer picked up a knife and inspected the glinting metal, running his thumb across the it; each ridge of his fingertip caught on the blade. "You know, I'm impressed. A mortal, overpowering the…" -he paused to count on his fingers- "fourth oldest thing in the universe. Me. As far as humans go, the Winchesters are the most fascinating I've seen since… Creation?" He set the knife back down and dragged the cart beside an (unnervingly human-shaped) table, dotted in blood stains. "Though, by far, you have to be the most interesting out of the lot."

The Devil settled himself onto the table, arms out on the thrusts intended for them. "Poor Sammy," he enunciated, and for once, the hunter couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic, "the boy that wanted nothing more than to be normal. But he never could." Sarcastic, certainly. "Sorry, moose. You were born for this. You were designed for me." Now, _that_ was genuine. "Still, you dragged me into hell, and I'm a little pissed."

The restraints clapped down on his wrists and ankles as Lucifer simply smirked in amusement. "Here's to revenge!"

Lucifer stepped out of his vessel, a blinding light harrowing his entrance. Sam shut his eyes until the glow died down, then reluctantly drew them open to the Devil he knew, Nick, smiling over him.

“Hey, Sammy. Did you miss me like this?”

He picked a knife from the tray, inspected it, then trailed it lightly, lovingly over Sam’s cheek, down the seam of his button-up shirt, and let it linger right below his navel. Then, he stabbed in.

Lucifer stripped him down to bones, bled him out, filleted every nerve, flayed every organ, one-by-one. It went on for... Sam lost track of time. What was time in the Pit? What did it matter? All that he knew was pain.

Lucifer ripped out the hook and heavy chain, letting it fall haphazardly to the ground with a clatter, soaked in blood. Sam would scream, but his throat was torn out a while ago. He touched Sam’s shoulder, gently, warmth and healing spreading through him. He could only torture so long before there was really nothing left, and then this. It was a welcome reprieve, but Sam knew it only meant another round, and the damn question again. “Are you done, Sam?”

The Winchester tremored, and his lips tugged down into an awful grimace. How he longed to cry out “yes” until his lungs gave out, but his higher mind and vocal cords fought against him. His eyes tightened shut as his breath heaved raggedly. He knew nothing was getting better. Ever. This would _never stop_. He was here for eternity, at the mercy of the Devil.

“It’s been years, Sam. You’ve held out longer than Dean; that has to mean something to you. It’s time to let go.”

The hunter shook, opened his mouth, and promptly flew into a coughing fit, punctuated with a gasp. “Wh-... Why should I be-lieve you?”

Lucifer smiled sadly, with regret. “Have I ever lied to you?” He let the question hang; he hadn’t. “Have I ever betrayed you?” Others, but not Sam. “Have I ever hurt you?” Sam tried to cut in for that, but the Devil shushed him. “-in a way you didn’t deserve. You threw me into hell, Sam. Of course you’re going to be punished.”

He laid a hand tentatively on the hunter’s forehead, smoothing back sweat-matted hair. “I never wanted to hurt you, Sam. You know that, but I have to set an example for my children. I have two rules: honesty, and revenge. If I let this go unpunished, you wouldn’t learn, and wouldn’t change. Let go, Sam. Let me forgive you.”

Sam’s face twisted, exemplifying his inner turmoil. “I’m going to ask you again, Sam. Are you sorry?”

Shaking and tearing, he choked out “yes.”

Immediately, the restraints popped open as Lucifer smiled down at Sam, stepping back and crossing his arms. The captive weakly sat up, flexing his cramped muscles slowly, cautiously, as he eyed the archangel. “...Why are you letting me go?”

Nick’s visage rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not, Sammy, I don’t live for torture. It’s necessary, not enjoyable. Physical pain is so predictable, and there are a lot more fun ways to get people to react than pain. Ways like dri-”

A crash of thunder sounded angrily from above, startling them both. Lucifer looked, for the first time Sam had seen, not in control. With eyes wide, and shoulders back, he looked like he was trying to regain his hold over his own fear. “Michael. How did he figure it out so fast?” He glanced back to Sam and latched onto his upper arm. “There’s not much time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Samifer Week 2012, but it received very little interest, and the whole premise was disproved in recent seasons, so I've decided to discontinue it.


End file.
